


Another Death

by mrsfizzle



Category: DCU, Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Person Lex Luthor, Good Sibling Lex Luthor, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfizzle/pseuds/mrsfizzle
Summary: By request. Clark looks to Lex for comfort in the wake of Alicia's death.
Relationships: Alicia Baker/Clark Kent, Clark Kent & Lex Luthor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	Another Death

**Author's Note:**

> For ArtimuosJackson, who requested to see Lex helping Clark with the trauma of Alicia's death. This one isn't part of any of my AU's, or even really compatible with them—it's actually pretty canon compliant.
> 
> I'm always up to consider story ideas you'd like to see :) (though it may be a little while before I can get to them)

Lex was sitting in front of his laptop at his desk when Clark came into the study.

Clark had been distant lately. Maybe he was still angry with Lex over the Room of Obsession; maybe he was just busy with school and friends; maybe they were growing apart. Lex missed their casual social calls, when Clark would just come over to play pool or talk, but that clearly wasn't what this was. Clark's eyes were swollen and red, his clothes were wrinkled and dirty as if he hadn't changed in days, and he wore a haunted expression.

Lex was more slammed with work than usual—he'd spent too much time and energy dealing with Jason Teague—but one look at Clark, and Lex knew it could all wait. Lex had seen that look in Clark's eyes twice before. After Ryan James, and after Kyla Willowbrook.

Neither of them said anything. Lex just closed his laptop and came over to stand in front of Clark. There he waited.

It didn't take long. Clark stepped forward and melted into Lex's arms, shaking with sobs.

Clark was three inches taller than Lex, but on days like today, it really didn't seem like it. Clark slouched and hung his head, so Lex's arms wrapped around Clark from above his shoulders, and Clark's arms wrapped around Lex's waist.

"Alicia?" Lex asked softly.

"Yeah."

Lex nodded slowly and rubbed between Clark's shoulder blades as Clark's grip became so tight that Lex could barely breathe. But that pain was the least of his concerns. The pain of watching his best friend suffer was far worse.

"I—I could have saved her . . ."

"No, you couldn't have," Lex said firmly.

"But . . . I didn't . . ."

"It's not your fault." Lex didn't know everything that had happened, but he knew that feeling of guilt. He knew it was irrational. That didn't mean he believed what he was saying applied to himself—most days, he felt convinced he could have saved his own mother if he'd tried harder, or if he'd been more careful with Julian—but Clark should never have to feel that kind of weight. Lex let go of his younger friend and held his shoulders at arm's length. "Hey, look at me?"

Clark sniffed and blinked a couple of times, the blue-green of his irises striking against the reddened whites of his eyes.

"It's _not_ your fault," Lex said again.

Clark nodded and took a few deep breaths, and Lex pulled him back into his arms.

This was the way it always went. Clark would cry for awhile at first. Lex would calm him down, then they'd eat obscene amounts of ice cream—Lex was already whispering the order over Clark's shoulder to the servant who passed by the study. Clark would pass out on the couch long before dark and wake up at some ungodly hour of the morning, ready to talk. They'd talk for a couple of hours—about the deceased, for a little while, but then the topic would change over to other things, and by the time it was time to take Clark home, he'd be doing better. Not completely healed, but better than he was. Ready to start the process of moving on.

It was what Pamela had done for Lex when his mother died, the day before she took off.

"Th-they say she was a monster," Clark said into Lex's shoulder. "That she deserved to die."

"Yeah? What do you say?" Lex rubbed his back a little harder.

"She n-needed help."

 _I know the feeling._ Lex was hardly a stranger to having Clark as the only person who believed in him.

By the time Lex had gotten Clark to sit on the couch, the servant had come back with the ice cream and two bowls and spoons. Lex dismissed the servant, and passed the ice cream over to Clark to serve himself first. Lex was careful to eat as slowly as he could, since there didn't seem to be a limit to how much Clark could eat—Lex had made himself sick the first time this had happened.

Lex didn't try to talk. Clark didn't need him to. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't sound a thousand times worse out loud than it did in his head. Lex should know—he'd witnessed enough people floundering for things to say after Julian's death, and then again after his mother's, to know that silence was his best bet, until Clark started the conversation.

When the half gallon was gone, Lex went to throw away the carton. Leaving the couch was intentional—it gave Clark the space to lie down. When he returned, Clark was curled up on his side, already half asleep.

Lex picked up a blanket and draped it over his younger friend. Some days—most days—Clark seemed to Lex to be ten years older than he was. Lex looked up to him like he would an older brother. But on days like today, Clark seemed five years younger than he was. The age Julian would have been. Lex had to focus to remember who Clark was—God forbid he accidentally call him Julian.

Clark let out one last quiet sob, and one more tear dripped down the side of his face. Lex wondered what he'd find if he analyzed the tear. Clark's tears hadn't done any damage to Lex's clothing or skin, but they were enough to make Clark's eyes swell. Clark wouldn't say, but Lex was pretty sure he had some kind of invulnerability—Lex _knew_ he'd hit Clark with his car when they'd first met—and yet his tears could damage his eyelids.

The last tear dropped from Clark's face and soaked into the blanket, and the tear tracks evaporated. Curiosity burned within Lex, but Lex wasn't really going to test the tear anyway. His investigations had taken advantage of Clark's inability to lie before, but taking advantage of this moment felt lower than Lex cared to be.

Now came the worst part of these visits—the worst part for Lex, anyway. Lex took a deep breath and braced himself, then took out his phone and called the Kent farm, silently praying that Martha would be the one to pick up.

It was Jonathan. "Hello?"

"Mr. Kent. It's Lex."

A short silence, then a curt, "Hi, Lex."

"Clark fell asleep on the couch. I wanted to know if he could spend the night here."

"I'll be there to pick him up in ten minutes."

"Mr. Kent . . ." Lex swallowed hard. "He came to talk about Alicia."

Jonathan didn't say anything for a moment, and Lex knew why. Jonathan hated that Lex was the one in whom Clark confided when he was hurting the most, but he couldn't deny that Lex was able to help Clark in a way his parents couldn't. It had been their choice not to adopt a second child, not to give Clark a sibling. Most of the time, Clark got by just fine without, but today, he needed a brother.

And Jonathan knew it. For all his prejudices, the man wanted what was best for his son.

"Okay," Jonathan said finally. "Can I bring anything for him?"

"I have extra toothbrushes, and I can lend him a change of clothes." Lex didn't think it was a good idea to remind Jonathan that he kept a few things at the mansion just for Clark.

"Okay. He, uh, he has chores to do tomorrow."

"Of course."

A sigh. "Okay, then."

Lex glanced back toward the study. "I'll take good care of him, you know. He'll be fine."

"I know he will."

"I'll drive him back home in the morning."

"That's fine. Listen, uh . . ." Jonathan tripped over his words.

Lex smiled. Some things never changed. "You're welcome, Mr. Kent."

"Right." With that, Jonathan hung up.

Lex slipped his phone in his pocket, stepped back into his study, checked on Clark one more time—he was still asleep—then went back to his desk to finish his work. It would be a long night in the study, but that was for the best. It meant that Lex would be right there if his little brother woke up and needed him.

He went over to his decanter and poured himself a drink. He raised it halfway, whispered, "To Alicia," and downed it in one.


End file.
